


In the Eyes of Justice

by LxNaomi



Series: At the Heart of Justice [2]
Category: Death Note & Related Fandoms, Death Note (Anime & Manga), Death Note: Another Note
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-04-18 03:24:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14203986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LxNaomi/pseuds/LxNaomi
Summary: **The sequel to "At the Heart of Justice"**Introducing a brand new case which sends our power couple on the run from a certain escaped serial killer with very unusual eyes...Featuring a shocking kidnapping, a twisted scavenger hunt riddled with mind-bending clues, Wammys Boys, suspense, shenanigans, and strawberry-flavored fluff, L and Naomi's story continues inIn the Eyes of Justice





	1. Alternative

**_-1997-_ **

With a bored sigh, the freckled, strawberry-blonde boy with the blue-green eyes turned his gaze to the view out the window beside him. The rain trickled downward on the pane of glass in forking, watery paths likened to the veins of a circulatory system.  Outside, through the blur of the dreary drizzle, the young teenager could see the tall, cast-iron fence that surrounded the British orphanage for gifted children and, as he always did, he wondered for a fleeting moment what the world was like on the other side of that cold, metal barrier.

But life had not dealt him cards that spelled freedom. His hand was made up of a brilliant mind, superior problem-solving skills, and off-the-charts psychological evaluations. Of all the children in the world, he had been hand-picked. He was the chosen one. The first in line. He was letter A.

"Ash?"

At the mention of his name, the boy snapped his attention back to the front of the small, wood-floored classroom and the teacher standing there. He had been completely engrossed in betting to himself which of two raindrops would reach the bottom of the window first, and he hadn't been paying attention. Trigonometry came easily enough to the thirteen-year-old, but he hadn't even heard the question.

"Umm..." Ash felt the eyes of his classmates on him. Granted, there were only five other people in the class, but still. They alienated him enough as it was. Making himself look like a dunce was not going to help matters, that was for sure.

A loud cough came from the dark-haired student slouched in the desk next to him. Ash glanced sideways and downward just in time to see the boy, older than him by two years, quickly and subtly sign with his long and slender fingers: _2-3-p_.

"Um, uhh..." Ash cleared his throat. "Two-thirds pi?"

The teacher nodded. "That is correct."

Ash shot an appreciative grin toward the boy beside him who, in return, dropped his head behind him, rolled his black-brown eyes backward, and hung his tongue out of the side of his mouth like he was a dead body. Trying to stifle a snicker, Ash lifted a hand concealed in the long sleeve of a hoodie to his grinning mouth.

His friend flopped his forehead onto his open math book atop his desk and let out a loud and dramatic groan.  He sounded like a dying animal.

"Beyond!" The teacher's voice was stern as he addressed the disturbance to the lesson.

The raven-haired boy didn't look up. "It's pi over five," he answered.  His voice was muffled, as his face was still buried in his book.

The teacher looked down at the answer key that he held. Then, he cleared his throat and looked up again.

"That is correct. However, I will need to see you after class."

"Mhh." Beyond's response was more of a jaded groan than an actual word.

Class ended moments later, and Ash stood to gather his things.

"I didn't mean to make you get in trouble," he said, his voice low.

Beyond wrinkled his nose and scoffed. "Pfft! Please. I got myself in trouble. You didn't make me do anything."

Ash grinned, displaying a charming tooth gap.  He wished he had his friend's carefree spirit.

Beyond Birthday, his best friend. His brother in every sense of the word, save in blood.  The carefree spirit to his small, burdened shoulders. The wild laughter to his quiet reservation.

And how B loved to make A laugh.  It was a response that only Beyond himself could genuinely initiate.

And B trusted A.  In fact, Ash was the only human being in the world to know the secret of Beyond's eyes.

Floating above the head of every person he came in contact with, B saw a name and a sequence of numbers.  The names were simple enough to figure out, but it took him nearly into his teenage years to discover that the numbers displayed the remaining lifespan of the human over whom they hovered.

Of course, not even B himself could know that he possessed the eyes of a shinigami, a god of death.

But he had explained it the best he could and, after much convincing, Ash came to believe that his friend had indeed been born with a rare and powerful ability.

Hugging his books to his chest with both arms, Ash exited the classroom, overhearing the teacher saying something to Beyond about remembering what he was being trained for.

A weird feeling suddenly formed in the pit of A's stomach.  He moved with quick steps upstairs and to the room he shared with Beyond.  He deposited the armful of books on his bed and turned to leave the room again.

As he made his way through the halls of the old-fashioned building that had once been a church, he heard several kids talking about forming study groups or maybe doing some fun activity now that classes were out for the day.  But Ash didn't have this time to call his own.  He had a special class.  One wherein he was the solitary student.

He opened the door to the small room where his instructor was waiting for him.  This was not a classroom or a meeting room, but more like a space that had once functioned as a church office.  To the left of the room was a large desk.  Wooden, and simple, it held a telephone with an intercom microphone, neatly-stacked sheets of paper, and an organized collection of pens and other such supplies.  Behind the desk was a high-backed swivel chair upholstered in burgundy leather and little gold buttons that traced its outer edges.  Along the walls were rows of bookshelves lined with frayed, linen-bound volumes containing the wisdom of scholars on yellowed pages.  The room smelled of wood and books, and the muli-colored stained glass of the room's single window appeared to be sleeping, as any trace of sunlight was concealed behind the grey and ominous clouds of the gloomy day.

"Good afternoon, Ash," the elderly man greeted.

"Afternoon, Roger," Ash mumbled as he shut the heavy door with the ornate carvings. 

There were two plush chairs sitting in front of the desk to the left, but A did not approach them.  Instead, he turned right, toward the small, black armchair that sat before several wall-mounted computer monitors.

Ash sat down and, with instinctive muscle memory, his palm lifted and slid up his freckled forehead to hold his soft, reddish hair back.  Roger attached several wires to the boy's forehead and temples with little, white adhesive circles.  Next, Ash held out the collar of his t-shirt under his hoodie as a larger circle was placed on the skin of his chest over his heart.  A clip was then fastened on the end of the index finger of his right hand, and one of the computer monitors came alive with a bright, red line, rising and falling with the rhythm of A's heartbeat.

Once the young teen was all hooked up to the various machines and monitors, the daily, routine psychological evaluations began.  Ash was presented with a series of exercises on the computer screen before him that tested areas of cognitive function, such as spatial mapping ability, recognition of mathematical patterns and inductive reasoning, comprehension of complex language syntax, and memory retrieval.

Roger input A's oral answers into the computer and recorded the results on a laptop. 

Ash stared at his fingers that were fidgeting with the end of the chair's armrest and answered Roger's monotonous questions one after the other.

"State the truth value of the following statement: A number x is Rational if and only if it is Real."

"False."

"State your reasoning."

Ash sighed heavily as he voiced his answer. 

"The use of the connector 'if and only if' indicates a biconditional statement and, since not all Real numbers are Rational, the statement is false."

"That is correct.  Now, look at the images on the screen.  Which of the four choices provides the next logical element in the sequence?"

Ash suddenly noticed that the blue light of the webcam above one of the monitors was on.  He had never noticed it to be on before.

"Roger, why is the webcam on?" he asked, pointing.

"Please answer the question, Ash."

"It's letter D.  Why is the webcam on?"

"That is correct.  Now, given the following sentence, provide the-"

"Roger."

The older man looked up.  The boy called A for "alternative" sat with both hands on the armrests of the chair.  Wires snaked and traveled all over him, trailing from his head, his fingers, and from inside his shirt.  His wide, blue-green eyes insisted on an answer.

"Is it him?" A asked directly.

Roger cleared his throat and his eyes shifted uncomfortably toward the webcam.

Ash pressed on.  "Roger, _is it him?"_

Finally, Roger sighed and simply nodded.

Ash felt his stomach slide up into his throat.  He turned to look straight into the webcam.  It stared back like the cold, unblinking eye of a cyborg, its gleaming blue light sharp and piercing.

And somewhere far away, a well-sugared coffee cup clinked down onto its saucer as the shadowed eyes of an insomniac stared into the awe-struck countenance of his young successor.

* * *

Beyond Birthday was on his bed, lying on his back with his legs propped up vertically against the wall when Ash returned.

"Hey," B said around the plastic spoon in his mouth.  "How was L Class?" he asked, using the nickname he'd given to A's training sessions.

Ash was quiet as he hopped up onto his own bed and sat with his legs crossed and his forearms on his knees.  He picked up a piece of lint from his comforter and rolled it around in his fingertips.

Beyond turned his head, still holding the spoon to his mouth.  "Yikes.  That bad?"

"No..." Ash said slowly.  "It was normal, except..."  His voice trailed off as he stared at nothing in particular, absentmindedly toying with the little ball of fuzz.

The plastic spoon scraped against the sides of the pudding cup, collecting the last of the chocolate dessert.

"Except what?" Beyond queried.  He let his long tongue hang out of his mouth and slid the spoon down it.

Ash sighed.  "He was watching me today."

B's head jerked over to face his friend.  "Wait, what?  Are you sure?"  He shoved his legs off of the wall and swung them over the edge of the bed as he shot up into a sitting position.  "How do you know?  Did you talk to him?"

Ash shook his head.  The lint was a teeny, tiny little ball now.  "The webcam was on," he said simply.

Beyond stared fascinated from behind the waves of jet-black hair that tumbled into his eyes.  "Woah..." he breathed.  "Did Roger say it was him?"

A just nodded.

"That's so cool!  Were you nervous?"

Ash wrinkled his nose.  "Yeah, man, wouldn't you be?"

Beyond scoffed.  "Man, that is so cool," he said again.  He rolled onto his back and returned his legs to the wall.

Ash sighed.  He flicked the ball of lint to the floor and shifted to sit with his legs dangling over the edge of the mattress.  "Yeah, well... Sometimes it doesn't feel so cool," he said quietly.

The plastic spoon had returned to B's mouth and was now being mercilessly chewed.  "What do you mean?" Beyond asked, staring up at the ceiling.

"I dunno."  A shrugged.  "It's just... What if I don't..."  He sighed heavily, as if gathering the courage to say what he wanted to say. 

Beyond waited, making little slurping noises as he sucked on the end of the spoon.

Ash took a deep breath and let it out again as he voiced the words.  "What if I don't want to be L?"

B turned his head again and looked at the other boy quizzically.  He held the end of the spoon in his long fingers and spoke with it pressed against his tongue and bottom lip.  "Why wouldn't you?"

Ash lifted thin shoulders in a shrug.  He said nothing more as he stared at the braided rug on the wood-planked floor between their beds.

With a sigh, Beyond shoved off the wall again and rolled off of the mattress into a standing position.  He tossed the spoon onto the nightstand and took a step to stand in front of his friend. 

B was a tall boy, unlike A.  His skin was naturally tanned with an olive undertone, and his features were dark and prominent.  He stood now, wearing slim, grey jeans and a black Akazukin Chacha anime t-shirt that was a little too big for him.  The short sleeves hung down to nearly his elbows.

"Ash?"  His voice was low for a fifteen-year-old.

Ash didn't answer right away.  He swallowed a couple times.  When he did look up, tears brimmed in his teal eyes.  "I can't do this, B."  His voice was quivering.

Beyond stared with parted lips.  He knew that A felt overwhelmed at times, but he had never cried about it before.

Ash took a shaky breath.  "I- I don't want to be L.  There, I said it.  I don't!"  He pounded his fists into the mattress at his sides.  "He's- he's too... _big,_ Beyond!  How am I supposed to take his place?  Huh?  He's a _legend_ and I'm... I'm just _me!"_   He flopped his arms outward helplessly and shook his head.  "I don't want this life," he added quietly.  "But I'm so alone and I have no one."

"Hey!"  B's voice cracked like feedback from a poor sound system.  He clapped his hand over his throat.  "...whoa."

Ash exhaled into a snicker.

"Shut up!"  Beyond playfully punched his friend's shoulder.

Ash grinned as he pulled away from the punch.  He lifted a freckled hand and swiped the back of it over the wet trail of tears that lined his round face.  "No one, except you," he corrected himself.

"And don't forget it," B demanded in a low but fierce tone.  He stepped forward and reached a hand around to the back of A's head, pulling it forward and pressing their foreheads together.  His eyes, nearly black as a bottomless abyss, were crossed ever so slightly as he looked directly into the watery, blue-green ocean in A's.  "We're _brothers,_ Ash," he said solemnly.

A sat trembling on the edge of the mattress, meeting the intense gaze of his best friend, his vision blurred both by tears and by the close proximity.

Beyond tightened his grip, his long and slender fingers intertwining with A's strawberry blond locks.  "...brothers?"

Ash stared for a moment longer.  Then he reached his hand up and clamped it into the thick, ebony waves on the back of Beyond's head.

He breathed in deeply and bravely.

_"Brothers."_


	2. Buffer

**_-2007-_ **

There was nothing atypical about this particular spring day in London. Sunshine gleamed in puddles on the pavement and sparkled on raindrops that clung to budding tree branches. Big Ben sounded nobly from his tower at the north end of the Palace of Westminster, announcing twelve o'clock noon, and locals and tourists alike bustled about the city with lunch on their minds.

But high atop a grand hotel, enclosed inside a luxurious penthouse suite, there existed a small world wherein time was not a dictator.

And wrapped snugly in a plush comforter tucked within that little world, Naomi Misora was just waking up. She was lying on her stomach with her hands flopped up on either side of her head. One eyelid fluttered open, the other one submerged in a downy feather pillow, and the first thing her bleary vision took in was the clock on her nightstand displaying the time.

Now, the old Naomi Misora would have been appalled to find herself still abed at noontime. But three years working for the Great Detective L had changed that and now, sleeping and waking were no longer attached to predetermined hours.

Scrunching her eyes in a yawn, Naomi turned her head and buried her face in the pillow. She lifted her arms above her and curled her toes in a long stretch before rolling over onto her back. Having gone to bed shortly after five o'clock that morning, she still felt like she could sleep another hour or two. But L had been lost in a case, glued to the computer, when she'd turned in, and she was eager to find out if he had solved it.

Throwing back the covers, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood to her fuzzy-socked feet. She pulled on a long cardigan and wrapped it over her t-shirt and pajama pants before opening the bedroom door.

She stepped out into the living room area and noticed immediately that L was in the exact same position as he had been when she'd left hours earlier.

Naomi lifted one hand to rub her eye sleepily with the base of her palm as she yawned again. The grumbling, sputtering sound of a coffee maker turned her attention toward the kitchen.

"Good morning," Watari greeted.

"It's noon," she croaked groggily as she shuffled over to sit at the little kitchen table.

"Oh. So it is." The old man opened the cupboard and took out two coffee mugs.

"Has he moved at all?" Naomi questioned, resting her elbow on the table with her head in her hand.

Watari shook his head. "Not once."

"Ughh!" Naomi flopped her forehead onto the table. "It's been thirteen hours, Watari! How is he still buffering??"

Watari chuckled and lifted one shoulder as though to express the answer to that question was beyond him.

L was, in many ways, very much like a machine of sorts in that he was seemingly made up of a series of preset modes. And one of them activated whenever a case required no action, but rather a mental puzzle to be solved, such as a trail of clues that appeared to lead nowhere. When presented with this type of situation, he would park himself at the computer for hours, completely locked in and closed off, and just stare, mumbling to himself with his thumb in his mouth. Naomi had commented to Watari once that she could almost see a little buffering symbol slowly spinning over his head, like when a program was taking a long time to open on a computer. The old man had found her observation rather amusing and now, it was their little inside joke.

"Actually," Watari said calmly as he emptied a bag of sugar cubes into a china sugar bowl, "this is nowhere near the longest he's ever buffered."

Naomi's head came up. "Oh no. Do I want to know...? Okay, tell me, how long?"

"Seventy hours."

"Seventy-! Wha- that's _three days!"_

Watari chuckled again and nodded.

"Aughhhh!" Naomi groaned and dropped her forehead back onto the table.

Watari smiled beneath his white mustache as he poured the coffee and arranged it with some sweets on a tray.

Naomi stood to her feet. "Can I take it?"

"Of course." Watari handed her the tray.

Tray in hand, Naomi crossed the living room to the desk where L Lawliet was crouched in a swivel chair, staring intently at a series of crime scene photos, police reports, and data graphs displayed on a total of six different mounted computer monitors before him. As if in a trance, he sat motionless, save for his shadowed, sleep-deprived eyes, which were darting back and forth between the screens. His thumb rested on his bottom lip, pushing it to the side a little, and his other hand was settled atop one of his bent-up knees.

Naomi set the tray down on the desk.

"Thank you, Watari," L mumbled.

Naomi glanced over her shoulder and shot Watari a look that said, "Are you hearing this?"

The old man just shook his head smiling.

"Guess again," Naomi said candidly, turning back to L.

He didn't respond.

With a sigh, Naomi put her hand to the back of his head. She stood there with her other hand on her hip and played affectionately with his messy, black hair. 

He remained unresponsive as the metaphorical buffering symbol twirled relentlessly above his head.

But this was the life Naomi had signed up for.  It was unpredictable and unconventional... just like L himself.  And she wouldn't have traded it for the world.

With a sigh and a shake of her head,  she turned back toward the kitchen.

His hand suddenly moved to take her wrist.

Naomi looked down at him.  His eyes never left the screens.

He paused like this for a moment. Then he mumbled around the thumb that remained on his bottom lip.

"Thank you, Naomi."

Naomi's heart did a flip. Her boyfriend was still in there somewhere. She grinned and leaned forward to place a kiss on the top of his head.

He released her wrist, and his attention left the monitors just long enough to reach for the sugar bowl.

* * *

Around half past two o'clock in the afternoon, Naomi was standing in front of her bathroom mirror towel-drying her hair when the bedroom door opened.  She looked over as L stepped inside.

"Oh, hey!" she greeted, rubbing the side of her damp head with a fluffy towel.  "So, you solved it, then?" 

L shut the door and took a few steps over to stand in the bathroom doorway.  His hands were in his jeans pockets with his thumbs hanging over the edges.  "I did," he said simply.

Naomi turned to drape the towel over the bar on the wall, then stepped forward and wrapped her arms around L's neck.  "You know," she said fondly, "you're pretty amazing."

L met her smiling gaze with his dark-rimmed, grey eyes.  His hands remained in his pockets and his mouth rounded into half a smile.

Naomi lifted onto her tiptoes and sweetly pecked his lips.  "Welcome back," she teased.   Then she moved around him to her dresser and opened a drawer.  She pulled out a pair of socks and sat down on the bed.

"Are you going somewhere?" L asked, turning to face her.

Naomi looked up.  "I was going to take my bike out actually," she replied.  "It finally stopped raining, and I'm sick of being inside."  Pulling on a sock, she added,  "That is, unless you needed me for something?"

L shook his head in the negative.

"Well, hey, want to come with me?" Naomi grinned hopefully as she switched to the other foot.

L lifted an index finger to scratch the side of his forehead.  "Umm..." he hesitated.

Naomi stood up.  "Come on," she said, beckoning.  "You haven't been outside in four days."

"I didn't go outside for four months once," L commented.

"I know, you told me."  She beckoned again, this time with a little more emphasis.  "Come on!  Let's get you some fresh air," she said decidedly.

L chewed on the end of his thumb.  "Alright," he mumbled.  "But we're getting something to eat while we're out."

Naomi suddenly clasped her hands together excitedly.  "Oh!" she exclaimed.  "Oh, we should go on a picnic!"

L did not seem nearly as enthused.

All the same, Naomi grabbed his hand, eagerly chattering about the sunshine and the great outdoors, and led him out of the room and into the kitchen.  Watari helped her pack a little cooler with sandwiches, fruit, a thermos of tea, and scones with clotted cream and strawberry jam.  Naomi folded a thin blanket and laid it over top of it all. 

Once this was done, L and Naomi moved to the coat closet to get their jackets.  Both of them were genuine black leather, Naomi's having been gifted to her by L along with her sleek, black bike with the violet LED lights.  L's jacket was a present from Naomi.  She had bought it for him shortly after they had become a couple, insisting that he take time to ride with her every once in awhile now that he was her boyfriend, and he hadn't argued.  In truth, L liked going out riding with Naomi- once she actually managed to pull him away from his work for a short time, that is.

Naomi pulled her boots on over her jeans and L shoved his bare feet into his sneakers.  These were also given to him by Naomi, and they were a fashionable upgrade from the beaten, worn-out pair he'd had since he was nineteen.  Naomi had consulted Watari on the matter and had spent hours researching, in essence, "shoes for people who don't like shoes."  At last, she had settled on a pair of comfortable, grey kicks with lightweight comfort technology and all sorts of other features that Watari confirmed appropriate for the quirky, bare-footed detective. And, although he still flung them off the second he stepped indoors, L admitted that he'd never owned a pair of shoes that he hated this little.  Naomi, accepting this as a compliment, had grinned at Watari, who had offered her a triumphant thumbs-up in return.

Together, L and Naomi headed downstairs and out to the parking deck.  They climbed onto the bike, each sliding on a helmet, and Naomi turned the key in the ignition to awaken the gleaming, ebony beast.  L leaned forward and clasped his hands together in front of Naomi, holding on tightly, and they took off onto the streets of London.

Naomi headed out and away from the city.  Gradually, their surroundings changed from noisy, urban capital to grassy, English countryside.  They drove for awhile, along narrow, winding roads, past dry stone walls outlining freshly plowed farmland, and by sprawling, green fields sprinkled with daisies and cornflowers.  Sunshine spilled over the meadows that flashed by in a watercolor blur and glistened on the raindrops that were slowly evaporating into the timidly warm spring air.

At last, the motorcycle rumbled to a stop at the top of a little hill overlooking a quiet village made up of little stone structures with neatly trimmed hedges, charming window boxes, and thatched roofs.  L slid off his helmet and set it behind him, tossing his head and freeing his wild, black hair.  Naomi, who never passed up an opportunity to take in a view, had also removed her helmet but was now sitting with her hands on her lap taking in the quaint, picturesque scene before them.

L leaned forward and rested the side of his head at the base of her neck.  Naomi sighed contentedly and dropped her head back to rest against the top of his.  They sat there together, a light breeze playing with their clothes and their hair.  Clouds, white and soft as cotton, traveled lazily across a pastel sky, and from a budding branch nearby, a wood lark twittered a song.  

After a moment, L sat up again.  "I'm starving," he muttered.

Naomi smiled.  Of course he was.  "Me too," she agreed.  She swung her leg over to dismount and retrieved the cooler from the metal rack attached to the rear of the bike.

Together, they took a few steps into the grass, and Naomi spread out the blue and white striped blanket. 

Around mouthfuls of cream tea and fresh berries, L filled Naomi in on the case he had just closed.  He commended her for discovering a critical detail at the crime scene that had proven very useful in his deductions.

"You never fail to impress me, Naomi Misora," he said admiringly, glancing her way before shoving a scone layered with jam and cream into his mouth.  He was sitting on the blanket with his knees brought to his chest, his shoes and jacket having been promptly removed.

Naomi smiled and tipped her head.  "Just doing my job, Sir," she said playfully.  She finished her tea and set the china cup down with a clink.

L noisily licked his fingertips, one at a time.  "Mm."

Smiling, Naomi picked up an apple and laid down on her back.  She tucked one arm under her head, and with the other, she lifted the bright red fruit to her mouth to take a crisp, juicy bite.  Then, apple still in hand, she pointed up at the sky.

"That one looks like a cat," she said around the bite in her mouth.

L looked up to where she was pointing, an index finger hooked over his bottom teeth.  "You know I'm bad at this," he said slowly.

Naomi beckoned.  "Come here, I'll show you."

L sighed and moved to lie down shoulder-to-shoulder next to her.  This wasn't the first time Naomi had tried to get him to see shapes in the clouds.  Although he could never quite get the hang of it, she seemed to really like the little game. 

"Okay, see that big one with the long tail thing?"

L hesitated.  "...yeah."

"And then see the other side of it, how those two things sticking up look like ears?"

"I definitely don't see ears."

Naomi laughed and stubbornly continued pointing upwards.  "L, it's a cat lying down.  The big part is the body, that's the tail, and that's the head with the pointy ears."  She turned her head to look at him hopefully.

But L's wide, shadowed eyes just stared upwards, seeing nothing but white clouds in a blue sky.  Finally, he sighed.  "If you say so," he said with a shrug.

Naomi shifted so that the back of her head rested against L's shoulder and took another bite of the apple.  "It's okay," she teased, bending her elbow up to pat his arm.  "There's lots of other things you're good at."

"Like chess," L commented.

Naomi laughed.  She had never even come close to beating L in a game of chess.  "Touché," she admitted.

"And tennis," he added.

"Hey!"  Naomi elbowed him playfully.  "I'm getting better!"

"I didn't say you weren't," L innocently pointed out.

Naomi tilted her face up to look at him and gave him a mischievous look.  Her long hair cascaded over his white-sleeved arm and shoulder and fanned out onto the blanket.  L met her gaze and returned the look with an impish smile.  He reached over with his long arm and gently traced her jawline with his finger.

"I love you," he said softly.

Naomi's heart burst into butterflies as she smiled up at her L Lawliet.  Then her eyes closed dreamily as his lips met hers in a soft kiss.  

He had changed so much in the last two years, and yet at the same time, he hadn't changed at all.  He was still brilliant, quirky, stubborn, and childish.  He was still aloof and awkward, but now, with Naomi, he was protective and vulnerable.  He trusted her completely.  His analytical mind and calculating intellect were unshaken, but his once cold heart was no longer barricaded in lonely isolation.

Because now, he had someone who shared the weight of the world with him.  With Naomi at his side, he smiled a little easier, walked a little lighter, and his shoulders were a little less burdened.  She brought out a side of him he never knew he had, and he loved her for it.

In every sense, he was still L; still everything he had always been.

Only now, he was more.


	3. Storm

"Naomi?"

Misora looked up from collecting the dishes on the picnic blanket. L was standing in his curved posture with his arms bent at the elbows and his hands in his pockets. He was looking upward toward the sky.

"What?"

L slid a hand out of his jeans pocket and pointed toward the horizon.

"That one looks like rain."

Naomi turned to look where L was pointing and beheld an ominous, grey cloud looming in the distance. A chilly wind suddenly picked up, and she lifted a hand to brush breezy strands of long, black hair out of her face.

"We'd better get going," she said uneasily.

L nodded in agreement, and he stooped to assist Naomi with packing up the cooler.

But within moments, spontaneous little raindrops began to spit down into the dirt, and a gusty wind picked up seemingly out of nowhere. The sky above darkened into a sinister grey, and with an instantaneous clap of thunder, it suddenly began to downpour in blustery, diagonal sheets.

"Ughh, seriously?!" Naomi groaned, lifting a hand over her head, as if that would accomplish anything. She hurried to attach the cooler to the motorcycle rack, and she and L mounted the bike. They took off, but Naomi quickly realized that making it all the way back to London was out of the question. She pulled over to the side of the road and turned her head toward L, the strong wind pelting the raindrops against her full-faced helmet.

"Should we wait this out in the village?" she called over the sound of the storm.

L nodded. "I think that's best," he agreed.

Naomi turned the bike around and changed course toward the village. Minutes later, the motorcycle sputtered to a stop in front of a large, Tudor-style building with a hanging sign out front that read "King's Crown Inn & Pub." The rain was coming down like a great waterfall from the heavens, and an angry, wet wind howled and whipped at everything in sight.

L and Naomi hurried under a little alcove at the entrance of the inn and removed their helmets. Both of them were completely soaked through.

"Wow, that came out of nowhere!" Naomi observed as she raked her fingers through her wet hair.

L gathered the fabric of his white shirt up to his ribcage and twisted it to wring the rainwater out onto the cobblestone ground. He looked up at the darkened sky through shadowed eyes behind drippy, black bangs.

"I'm not sure we'll make it back tonight," he commented slowly. He flicked his head, sending an artillery of droplets flying from his thick, saturated mane.

Naomi sighed and nodded. She turned toward the building, and her eyes traveled up over the old English architecture. "Guess we can stay here," she said with a slight shrug.

L had brought a thumb to his mouth and was gnawing on the end of it. "That sounds like our best option," he mumbled. "Let's go see if they have coffee."

Together, they stepped inside the busy little inn and into an open room with low, timber-beamed ceilings and cozy, dim wall sconces. The worn wood floors of the entryway gave way to deep blue nylon carpet patterned in a simple brown and cream design, and the walls were decorated with various framed oil paintings. The head of a fallow deer was displayed over a large slate and cast iron fireplace at the very back of the room. Tables for four, set with porcelain dishes and tall, wax candles, were arranged about the room, and some high-backed wooden booths lined the walls.

It was a little crowded, given the torrential downpour occurring outside, and L and Naomi made their way over to the dark-stained oak bar along the right wall where a short, middle-aged woman smiled warmly. Her short, curly locks were dyed dark brown, and she wore a pastel pink sweater with simple gold jewelry. Behind the bar with her, a bit further down, was a tall man with greying, light blond hair and thin, round spectacles. He had a hand towel draped over his shoulder, and he stood casually with both palms on the bartop making small talk with some patrons.

The woman folded her hands primly on the countertop as she addressed the two rain-sodden guests with the leather jackets slung over their shoulders and motorcycle helmets hooked over their fingertips.

"Oh my," she remarked pleasantly in a gentle British accent.  "Just look at the two of you! Soaked to the bone and in need of a hot drink, I would imagine.  How can I help you?"

Naomi smiled. "That sounds wonderful.  Are there any rooms available?"

The woman's face brightened. "There are! And thank goodness," she laughed lightly.  "You'd catch your death of cold being out in this storm, that is if you didn't drown first!"

The soft-spoken woman checked them in and handed Naomi a brass room key on a wooden fob shaped like a crown.  "I'll show you to your room," she offered.

L and Naomi were led to a doorway back by the fireplace and up a creaky, narrow staircase. It turned halfway up, and a tall window with diamond-shaped lattice panes looked out onto the howling storm.

They reached the top of the stairs and stepped onto faded burgundy carpet. The first door on the right was unlocked and opened, and the innkeeper stepped aside, gesturing hospitably for them to enter.

"Why don't you settle in and then come on downstairs? We'll fix you up with something to warm your insides."

"Thank you," Naomi nodded gratefully, and L thanked her too. They stepped into the room and shut the door.

The room was small but comfortable with vintage furnishings and simple décor. The ceilings were lined with heavy, oak beams, and the walls were painted cream, save for one with gold and mauve printed wallpaper against which a wooden headboard rested. A small bathroom was off to the left.

"That fireplace downstairs looked awfully cozy," Naomi commented as she set her shiny, black helmet, glistening with raindrops, down on an upholstered bench against the wall. "I'm freezing."

L set his helmet down too, and both of them hung their jackets over brass hooks on the back of the door.

Then L moved into the bathroom to grab a fluffy towel. He draped it over his head and rubbed it vigorously. When he pulled it away again, his ebony mane stuck up everywhere in one wild floof.

Naomi snickered.  "Hey, handsome," she teased, and she reached her arm out for the towel. L tossed it to her with a smirk.

Pulling her long, wet hair over one shoulder, Naomi used the towel to soak up the rainwater. A thunderclap sounded from outside, and she turned to gaze out the room's single window.

"Weather like this makes me think of flashlight stories and blanket forts," she commented nostalgically.

L had removed his shirt and was wringing it out over the bathroom sink. He turned to look at Naomi and tipped his head. "What are flashlight stories?" he inquired.

Naomi turned toward him, now rubbing the towel over the back of her head. "Have you ever sat in a circle with other people where someone holds a flashlight up to their face and tells scary stories?"

L stood shirtless in his loose-fitting blue jeans and whipped the white tshirt outward so that the twisted-up fabric uncrumpled to take shape again. A raised, jagged scar traveled downward from just above his collarbone all the way down to the middle of his chest- an eternal reminder of The Bishop Case they had solved over two years ago.

"I think I know what you mean," he said. "We used to have campfires at Wammy's." He looked at Naomi, as though questioning whether he had the right idea.

"Yes, that's what I mean," Naomi confirmed. "My brothers and I used to hang blankets over the backs of chairs and then sit underneath and do that." She laughed and added wistfully, "and I always remember doing it during thunderstorms."

L shoved his arms into his long, white sleeves and adjusted the damp, wrinkled shirt over his skinny torso.  He shoved his hands into his pockets and then stood for a moment just watching Naomi as she looked out the window, listlessly toweling her hair, lost in a childish memory.

"You ready?" he finally asked.

"Yep."

Naomi tossed the towel onto the bed and together, they headed back down the bending, narrow staircase.

A table had already been prepared for them, and they were seated in a booth along a wall with an oil painting of a flock of pheasants. A television screen hung in the corner and was playing a world-wide news station.

"We should call Watari," Naomi commented, taking her phone out of her pocket.

L agreed and Naomi dialed the number.  She put the phone to her ear, but heard nothing after several seconds.  Wrinkling her nose, she pulled the phone away to look at the screen.  The call wasn't going through.  Figuring the storm was interfering with cell service, she tried to send a text message instead.

While Naomi fiddled with her phone, L's dark-rimmed eyes were fixed on the TV screen mounted in the corner.

"I can't get service," Naomi said at last, returning the phone to her pocket.  She looked at L, who was still eye-locked with the T.V.  Twisting around and looking up to try to see the screen, she asked,  "What's so interesting?"

The news story concluded, and the program moved on to the next bit in the broadcast. L's eyes moved back down to Naomi, and she turned to face him again, tilting her head inquisitively.

"It appears as though an inmate serving a life sentence in Los Angeles may have been murdered," L informed her. His eyes traveled slowly away from Naomi and to nothing in particular, like he was thinking. He went on, speaking slowly. "Apparently, he suffered a stroke last night and was taken to the hospital... and then early this morning, there was an explosion in his room. No one else was hurt, but..." His voice trailed off and his eyes came to rest on the wooden tabletop. He sat with the end of his thumb between his teeth.

"That's awful," Naomi remarked, curling her lip in disgust.

"Yes..."  L thought for a moment longer, then looked up at her again.  "Perhaps we should use the landline to call Watari?"

Naomi nodded.  "I'll go," she offered, and she slid out of the booth. She made her way over to the front desk and made the call, informing Watari that they were safe and would return the next day.

"Thank you," Naomi said, returning the phone to the woman who had shown them to their room.  "And as long as I'm here, could we get two cappuccinos?"

"Of course," the innkeeper obliged.

Naomi stood drumming her fingers on the wooden countertop as she scanned the large room. The atmosphere was warm and lively and hummed with pleasant conversation.  A group of men laughed heartily from the other end of the bar.

"A bit stranded, are we?"

"Hmm?"  Naomi turn to face the older woman.  "Oh... Oh, yes. A bit," she answered, smiling politely and shrugging one shoulder.

"Where are you from, if I might ask?"

The cappuccino machine whirred and sputtered and gave off a rich aroma of espresso and frothy, warm milk.

"Oh, I'm Japanese," Naomi explained.  "I was born in the Kanto region, near Tokyo."

"Oh, lovely! Your English is very good... though I must say, it sounds very American."

"Yes, I spent some time in America." She gestured toward L on the other side of the room.  He was once again captivated by a news story on the television screen.   "That's actually where we met," Naomi added. 

"University?"

"No, ah... through work."  Naomi smiled uneasily, hoping she wouldn't have to explain that her work was classified or come up with some bogus job title. She disliked lying, although, in her profession, it was, at times, necessary.

But this was not the case. Instead, the Englishwoman responded sweetly, "Oh isn't that nice!  My husband and I run this inn together.  Going to work everyday isn't so bad when it's with someone you love." 

Two wide-rimmed mugs brimming with snowy foam were now being sprinkled with cinnamon.

Naomi's face broadened into a smile as she looked over toward her boyfriend again.  He had taken his shoes off and had set them under the booth, and now, he sat with his knees bent up to his chest and his bare feet on the leather cushion.  What came as a strange sight to most was familiar and endearing to Naomi Misora.  The faded blue jeans, the plain, white t-shirt, that wild head of pitch-black hair... all of it was her L Lawliet.

"Yeah... It's pretty great," she beamed.

She truly did love her job.  But even more so, she loved the quirky and brilliant man with whom she shared it.

 


	4. Shadows

It was still dark outside the little English inn when Naomi woke up. The rain had stopped, and a peaceful calm hung in the air.

L had been sitting next to her reading a newspaper by lamplight when Naomi had fallen asleep, but now, the left side of the bed was vacant, the vintage, floral sheets cast aside and lying crumpled in a heap.

With her eyes half-shut, Naomi rolled over to check her phone. She blinked as her vision, blurred by the remnants of sleep, took in the time.

 _4:41 a.m_.

She flopped onto her back and rubbed one eye with her fingertips before propping up onto her elbows. She looked around the room through bleary eyes. L was nowhere to be seen.

Naomi picked up her phone again and attempted a text message. It went through this time.

_Where are you?_

A few seconds later, her phone buzzed with L's reply.

_Downstairs._

Naomi stretched her limbs in a yawn that arched her back and made her toes curl, then tossed back the comforter. She had slept in her jeans and camisole, having no other clothing with her. Sleepily, she pulled on her cranberry-colored V-neck top and stepped out into the quiet hallway to head down the creaky, twisting staircase.

The large main room, which had bustled with life only hours earlier, now sat empty and still, the silence disturbed only by the gentle flickering of the gas fireplace and the soft _thunk!_ of a dart hitting a felt board.

"Hi," Naomi greeted softly.

L's back was to Naomi, and he turned to look at her, his left hand pocketed.  The right held another dart up by his shoulder.

"Hi," he returned. He faced the board again and flicked the plastic-feathered barb. It landed in the ring just outside the very center, about seven o'clock from a bull's-eye.

Naomi stepped up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, clasping her hands together and resting the side of her head between his prominent shoulder blades.

"Poor baby," she sighed playfully. "You don't know what to do with yourself without a laptop or an internet connection." She grinned and set her chin on top of his shoulder, tightening her grip around his middle.

L turned his head toward her, both of his hands now pocketed. "It's oddly nice," he admitted. His elbows tightened inward, as if hugging her in return. "But I'm glad you're here now," he added, glancing over his shoulder at her.

Naomi moved her hands to his hips and pressed her lips against his back, just below the collar of his white t-shirt. Then she moved around him to sit cross-legged on the floor in front of the slate and iron fireplace. Looking upward and smiling, she patted the carpet beside her.

L stepped over to the indicated spot and crouched down into his usual sitting position. The glow of the subtly dancing flames reflected in his large, grey eyes as he watched them, wrapping his arms around his knees and lifting a thumb to rest against his bottom lip. They sat together in comfortable silence for a few moments before Naomi turned to look at him. It was clear to her, she who had come to know him so well, that something was on his mind.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked quietly, leaning forward a little with her forearms on her knees. Her fingertips played lazily with one another.

"That news story..." L mumbled slowly. "That California inmate who burned to death in the hospital bed. Some of the details seemed awfully... coincidental. Familiar, even." He turned his gaze to Naomi, the end of his thumb clamped between his teeth.

Naomi blinked. "What?"  She leaned forward and lowered her voice, her eyes widening.  "You think it could have been... _Beyond?"_   Naomi spoke the infamous name in an arid whisper, glancing around as though it were forbidden to say aloud.

L lifted his thin shoulders in a shrug, and turned back toward the warm, flickering light. "A life sentence inmate in Los Angeles mysteriously burns to death?" L sighed, then made a low growl sound deep in his throat as his dark eyes narrowed. "I can't help but wonder..." His voice floated away like a feather caught up in a breeze, and his teeth rhythmically clipped against the tip of his thumbnail as he sat lost in his uneasy thoughts.

"Well..." Naomi looked down at her hands. "Could you call the hospital and find out who it was?"

"Not from here," L sighed, returning his hand to his denim-clad knee. "I don't want the call traced."

Naomi nodded in understanding. She was starting to wonder now, too.

The two sat contemplatively side-by-side, watching the quivering blue and orange flames.

"Burning alive would be an awful way to die," Naomi said quietly, breaking the silence. She shivered at the horrible thought.

L looked at her again. "You're thinking about Beyond now, too," he surmised.

Naomi just nodded, the glowing light gently illuminating her face, casting both light and shadows on her visage. Her brow creased uneasily.

"I can't understand what would drive someone to do something like willingly setting themselves on fire," she said, shaking her head. "It was... haunting. The way he screamed, it..." Naomi shut her eyes tightly, then opened them again with another shudder. "...I can still hear him sometimes."

L was watching her closely. "You never told me that before," he said quietly.

Naomi shrugged. "It's just the kind of thing that sort of stays with you, I guess," she murmured.

L seemed to consider her words as his gaze traveled back to the fire. 

It was quiet again for several moments.

"What was he like?" he asked finally.

Naomi looked at him confusedly. "I thought you knew Beyond?"

"Well, that was a long time ago," L clarified. "And I never... personally knew him."

Naomi wrinkled her nose. After a brief hesitation, she answered. "Well, he was... strange. Creepy. He reminded me of a... a spider.  You know, the type of predator that is sneaky and cunning and lures its prey."  She brought her knees to her chest and hugged them to her, suddenly feeling like her skin was crawling. "And there was something about his eyes that I can't quite put my finger on. Like he didn't just look at you, he... _read_ you.  His gaze was so intense and so... intrusive." She squinted her eyes and parted her lips a little, like she wanted to say something, but could quite find the words.

L just listened, his own eyes glinting with contemplation and firelight.

"I don't know how to explain it." Naomi lifted her shoulders as she shook her head slightly. "All I know is that something was off about him from the moment I met him. The way he acted and moved was just... unsettling."

"You said he acted and moved like me, though," L frankly pointed out. His words were not spoken with offense, but merely as a statement of fact.

"Well, no... I mean, yes, he did, but..." Naomi tipped her head and sighed. "But he was so much more... fierce about it. So much more 'in your face,' so to speak. Like he was trying _so_ hard to be that way. It was... warped and unnatural." She glanced over at her boyfriend and mentally noted that his own movements and postures were, by society's standards, warped and unnatural. But there was something about Beyond that had been different. That much she knew, even if she couldn't quite manage to put it into words. "I don't know, L," she said finally. "I feel safe with you, and... I didn't with him." She shrugged again.

L made no reply. His thumb was tucked between his back molars, and he gnawed on it slowly and absentmindedly.  His thoughts were far away, at a crime scene in a hospital in Los Angeles.  Too many details were lining up, too many coincidences...  A subtle yet disturbing uneasiness had settled in the pit of the detective's stomach like a heavy weight.

"When can we check out?" he asked abruptly, without looking away from the fire.

"Um, six, I believe, is the earliest," Naomi answered him, her own eyes captivated by the gentle blaze.

L wrapped his arms tighter around his knees, annoyed that there was nothing he could do at the moment to ease his wonderings.

Naomi sensed his agitation and moved over to sit closer to him.  She bent her legs and tucked them comfortably underneath her as she rested the side of her head against L's shoulder.

"You're probably hungry," she noted.

"Mhmm."  L sighed.

"I think they may have left some complementary scones and coffee out."  Naomi lifted her head and looked around, her eyes coming to rest on a tea table on the other side of the room set with stainless steel thermoses and some delicately patterned dishes.  An empty plate sat among the coffee and tea service, and Naomi swung her head back around to look at L.

"You ate them _all,"_ she accused with an upturned palm.  She let her hand fall back onto her lap as she gawked at her boyfriend.  "L!"

L lowered his brow towards her defensively.  "They were complementary!" he retorted around the thumb in his mouth.

"But..."

L's eyes widened innocently as he looked at her, as though challenging her to counter his logic.

At last, Naomi sighed and shook her head, laughing lightly in defeat.  She shifted to lay her head against his shoulder again.

"What am I going to do with you?" she crooned softly.

A smile tugged at the corners of L's mouth, and his head tipped to rest atop hers.  They sat together for a little while longer, the firelight dancing faintly on their features.

* * *

 

**-1998-**

Of course it was raining.

Beyond stepped off of the bus and onto the drippy, wet grass. Thunder rolled lazily in the distance, and the sky overhead was shrouded in a bleak and foreboding mist spanning relentlessly from horizon to horizon.

The orphans of Wammy's House were paired up, two to an umbrella, but B told his "buddy" to go on ahead. He didn't want to be shielded from the watery veil falling like a steady stream of tears from a sullen sky. He wanted to feel the rain pelting his skin as he tilted his head, blinking his eyes and lifting his face toward the gloomy, grey heavens. He wanted his hair to stick to his ears and to his forehead and down the side of his nose, forming to the shape of his skull like ink being poured onto a sphere. He wanted nothing more than to feel something on this godforsaken day because now...

Now he was truly alone.

Before him, a small crowd clad in shades of black and grey was beginning to gather around a plain, wooden box and a fresh mound of dirt. Beyond shivered. It was cold, to be sure, but that was not the reason his broad, albeit thin shoulders were trembling beneath his wool coat and suit jacket.

He wasn't ready for this.

Nonetheless, he stepped forward to join the others just as a man dressed in long, ornate robes standing beneath a small tent began to speak.

"Friends and loved ones, we gather here today to commit our dearly departed to his final resting place. We gather to comfort one another, and to grieve together at his passing. But most of all, we gather to commemorate his life and to honor his memory."

Beyond wanted to scoff. These were just recited words to this bellowing old geezer in the gaudy costume. No one knew A like he had.

No one.

The officiant continued, reading from a small book which he held in both hands. "Fourteen-year-old Ash was a joyful young man, and he loved to laugh. He excelled in his studies and was at the top of his class. He enjoyed reading and music..."

"Who wrote this??" B disgustedly thought to himself. It sounded so... generic. Like he could be talking about any number of people.

The man in the flowing garment continued with the eulogy, but B tuned him out, sickened by the voice of a man reverently speaking about remembering a boy he had never even met. A boy who had longed more than anything to travel and to see the sights he had only read about in books. A boy who had loved anime and racing games and drizzling exorbitant amounts of syrup over his scrambled eggs. A boy who had been chosen for a life he had never wanted, and a boy who had deemed ending that life better than being forced to live it.

Beyond scanned the faces in the little gathering. Most of them were fellow orphans of varying ages. A few of them were his teachers. But his gaze came to rest on an unfamiliar pair standing off to the side under a large umbrella.

An old man stood with a much younger man at his side. The one with the hat and white mustache held the umbrella and the man beside him- barely more than a boy- stood hunched over with his hands in the pockets of a dark green rain jacket with the hood up. Beneath the unzipped coat, he wore a plain, white t-shirt paired with loose-fitting, faded blue jeans, and on his feet were a beaten pair of worn-out sneakers. He stood staring straight ahead through heavily shadowed eyes that appeared as though they had been forced to remain open for years and years.

B lost interest quickly and looked down at his muddied dress shoes, which were a little too tight for him.

At last, the little ceremony concluded, and one by one, the funeral-goers turned slowly from the lonely little grave. The orphans began to file quietly back to the bus, but B stood frozen in place, staring at the simple coffin and the mound of earth beside it. Suddenly and without warning, hot tears welled up in his dark shinigami eyes and spilled over, mixing with the cold raindrops running in streams down his face. Slowly, he took a few steps forward and lifted a weighted hand to place it gingerly on top of the casket. His other hand was in his suit pants pocket.

There hadn't been a viewing, but he could picture A inside there, with his long, strawberry blonde eyelashes resting softly on his round face sprinkled with freckles. They'd probably made him wear a suit.

B's eyes traveled the length of the box as he ran his hand gently along the smooth, polished pine, coated in a thin layer of rainwater. His chest rose and fell heavily.

Then he bent to press his forehead against the simple box that held his best friend. His long fingers gripped the wooden corner as he closed his eyes tightly. The rain drops battered down on his head and the back of his neck and trailed down into his collared shirt. Everything within him wanted to scream, to demand an answer to the question "why," to tear into his own skin and cast aside the torment so deep within his very soul.

But instead, he bit his lip and tensed his shoulders, keeping all of it inside.

"Goodbye, brother," he whispered.

Slowly, he stood upright again and sniffed, blinking red, swollen eyes. His long, tanned fingers tapped the casket twice in succession as he took a few steps backwards. Then, pocketing his hands and dropping his gaze, he turned around and moved with heavy steps toward the bus.


	5. Gone

L said nothing as he held the single sheet of paper up before him, its top left corner pinched between his thumb and index finger. He stood with his right hand pocketed, his posture bent as though the ceiling was too low for him.

"...well?"  Naomi's gently inquiring voice broke the silence. Her fingers fidgeted with one another.

The detective's dark-rimmed eyes didn't blink as he lowered the document.

"It's him," he said plainly.

Naomi felt a strange knot form in her stomach. So it was true...

Beyond Birthday was dead.

His life had ended in a fire... just as he had wanted it to five years earlier.

"Are you going to investigate it?" Naomi asked slowly.

The fingertips of L's left hand delicately held the medical examiner's report down by his side. His right side faced Naomi, and his gaze was fixed pensively on the carpet before him.

The cause of the fire was still unknown, and no traces of explosive residue had been found. No one else had been present in the room at the time of the blast, and a thorough investigation was being conducted by the L.A.P.D. to determine the cause of it. The body had been burned beyond recognition, and so any hopes of identification via fingerprinting had been dashed. The medical examiner had then turned to dental records, which had definitively confirmed that the infamous serial killer behind the 2002 Los Angeles Murder Cases was dead.

Still, though...

L shifted his stance to crack his toes into the carpet, glancing at Naomi. She was still waiting for an answer.

"Well..." he murmured, lifting an index finger to scratch his sideburn area. "I've requested that anything related to this case be copied over to me. I'd like to wait and see what comes out of the police's investigation."

Naomi nodded, looking down and folding her arms over her chest. She sighed and lifted her eyes to L again.

"You okay?" she asked caringly.

L looked at her. "Yes," he said simply. Then he turned and hopped up onto the couch.

Ultimately, L did decide to relocate to Los Angeles, and, in the days that followed, much was discovered about B's five years in prison. He seemed to keep to himself for the first three years, sitting alone at meals and listlessly wandering around the yard during his freetime. He read a lot of newspapers, and his internet history when given computer privileges showed that he kept a close eye on the current events of the world outside... and more specifically, stories about criminal investigations and cases solved by the great detective L. His cell walls were decorated with newspaper clippings and internet articles, as well as a map of the world containing dates and pinpoints inked in red marker, each one corresponding with L's biggest cases over the last five years.

And then, two years ago, he had gained a friend. Seemingly out of nowhere, he obtained a clingy shadow in the form of a Japanese inmate by the name of Teppei Tani. Guards and other inmates reported that they spent every moment of free time together, and the L.A.P.D. confirmed this via security tape footage. They sat together at meals, they walked together during outdoor time, and they tracked L's cases together. Somehow, and for some unknown reason, Beyond's obsession had been adopted by the short, quirky Teppei, who went by the nickname "Pip."

Having been incarcerated on charges of theft and assault on a convenience store clerk, Teppei Tani completed his prison sentence two months ago. The day before his release, Beyond had inexplicably taken down all of the photos, maps, and articles from his cell walls, stacking them neatly in one corner. He didn't look at them again.

Teppei had visited Beyond once in prison four days prior to the incident at the hospital, and the two made generic small talk on phones opposite a pane of glass.  Pip had brought with him a case of strawberry-flavored water.

"You mentioned that you missed these," he had remarked, handing the case over for inspection. All of the seals on the caps were undisturbed, and so B was allowed to take the flavored water back to his cell with him.

However, four days later, Beyond collapsed in his cell moments after draining one of the water bottles. He was immediately rushed to the hospital, presenting with stroke symptoms. He was placed in intensive care and then died in a mysterious explosion hours later, around 4:00 a.m. The only clue linked to the cause of the fire was an unknown person dressed in scrubs and a surgical mask, who was seen pushing a large laundry cart into Beyond's hospital room, exiting moments later. The explosion occurred soon after; however, the complete lack of bomb residue caused its origin to remain a mystery.

The water bottle was examined thoroughly, and it was discovered to contain traces of methyl iodide, a pesticide that, if ingested, induced symptoms that mimicked a stroke. A tiny puncture was found at the base of the plastic bottle's neck, indicating how the pesticide was introduced into the water without breaking the cap's seal.

It could only be concluded that the person with the laundry cart was Pip. After all, it was he who had brought B the water.

Beyond, as it turns out, was stubbornly determined to die the death he had been robbed of five years earlier. To accept that his original plan had failed would be to submit to another, and that was something _he_ never did. He had found a way to finish the job, perishing at long last, shrouded in mystery and flame.

And Teppei Tani was now wanted for the murder of Beyond Birthday.

Amid the ongoing investigation, life went on as usual in the weeks following the news of B's death. Summer sunshine gleamed down upon the city of Los Angeles on a particular day in early June, and Naomi grinned as she reached up to take L's outstretched hand.

"You're getting good," she complimented as he pulled her into a standing position from the cushioned vinyl gym mat.

"Thank you," L replied. He let go of her hand and swiped his long-sleeved arm over his flushed, damp forehead. The collar of his white t-shirt clung to his skin, along with the hair on the back of his neck and the side of his face.

Placing both hands on her hips, Naomi smiled at him through winded breaths. "Maybe if you wore exercise clothes-"

"No." He cut her off flatly.

Naomi lifted her eyes to the ceiling, exhaling into a grin. She, of course, was wearing athletic leggings and a racerback tank top. Breathable and flexible, her attire was far more appropriate for practicing Capoeira than jeans and long sleeves. But, while there were some things she had been able to sway L on, his clothing had not been one of them. He hadn't even bothered to put on shoes, since the gym was right in the hotel. She shook her head and dropped her gaze to meet his again.

L took a step backwards and put up his fists, his fingers curled inward loosely.

Naomi dropped her arms to her sides. Her eyes narrowed in a wry smile as she readied her hands as well. With a swift duck to the right, she avoided a strong high kick, and quickly moved to the offensive, jabbing her left arm outward.

L evaded her attack by rotating on his pivot foot and dropping back onto one hand. His right leg bent and his left kicked outward in a maneuver that resembled break dancing.

Naomi spun into a reverse roundhouse kick and wrapped her leg around his, jerking it inward. His balance compromised, L's back slammed into the mat. Naomi grinned as she released his leg from the bend of her knee. She moved to offer him her hand, and he took it.

"Well done," he commended as he stood up, his voice slightly irritated in defeat.  He brought his hand to his left shoulder, rolling it a bit and pressing his fingers into the space just under his collarbone.  It still bothered him sometimes, and it was likely that it always would, to some extent.  His fingertips moved in little circles as he looked toward the clock on the wall.

"You want to get going?" Naomi asked, glancing at the time as well.

"Yes," L responded. "I believe I'll be able to close the Chicago case tonight. The lab report should have arrived by now."

"Alright," Naomi agreed, and they moved together to a bench against the wall to retrieve their phones.

L picked up his mobile device, holding it by its top with only his thumb and first finger.  "I have a text from Watari," he mumbled.

"Everything okay?" Naomi asked as she popped open her water bottle.

L nodded as he returned the phone to his pocket. "Something has happened in the hotel's kitchen, and it's closed until further notice," he explained. "Watari has gone out to purchase a few things so that we remain well-stocked."

Naomi rolled her eyes a bit and nodded as she took a long drink of water. L running out of sweets would indeed be a crisis.

"I wonder what happened," she thought out loud as they exited the gym and headed toward the elevator.

L shrugged. "I don't know, but I'm starving," he grumbled. He poked the "up" button on the wall, and the doors slid open.

"There are some sweets in the fridge," Naomi informed him as they stepped inside.

"The fridge..." L murmured, perking up.

The doors shut, and the elevator hummed its way to the top floor. As soon as they reached the penthouse, L made a beeline for the refrigerator.

Naomi moved to a cupboard and began gathering things together to make tea as L rummaged noisily in the fridge. After a moment, he emerged holding a skewer lined with donuts, cream puffs, and other pastries. He shoved one hand into his pocket and took a big bite out of one of the glazed doughnuts, shutting the refrigerator door with his bare foot.

"Have you heard back from Scotland Yard about the Windsor case?" Naomi inquired as she filled the kettle with water from the sink.

Before L could answer, all of the lights in the suite suddenly flickered off, and the ever-present hum of the computers abruptly died. L and Naomi both lifted their eyes to the ceiling.

"That's weird..." Naomi observed, wrinkling her nose.  She shut off the water, and the drips that followed seemed to echo in the strange and sudden silence.

L's eyes traveled to the light coming from underneath the suite's main door. The electricity in the hallway was still on.

Odd...

The kitchen inexplicably closed, now this?

His head snapped over toward the computer monitors in the living room that were now blank and powerless. Slowly, he set the skewer down on the countertop.

Naomi was watching him.  "L, what-"

Quickly, he lifted an index finger toward her.

Naomi froze, unsure of what was going on. But L seemed to think something was amiss, and she had learned to trust his heightened sense of intuition.

L remained alert, like a bloodhound with its ears perked. He brought a thumb to his mouth and continued to stare toward the computers through shadowed and unblinking eyes.

It was so quiet with all of the computers suddenly turned off. Naomi could hear the muffled voices of some other hotel guests in the hallway, and a wall clock ticked over and over, monotonously disturbing the peculiar stillness.

"The security feeds..." L mumbled, his voice trailing off uneasily.

Naomi looked to where his gaze was locked- to the wall of lifeless computer screens.

Was someone trying to hide something by shutting off the power?

Just then, the suite came back to life. All at once, the lights came back on, and the computers all awoke and began to start up again.

But L remained motionless.

"Something is wrong..." he muttered with his thumbnail between his teeth.

Naomi looked around slowly, as if her surroundings were going to provide her with answers.

L's eyes suddenly sparked. "Watari," he said firmly. Without a second thought, he turned and bolted toward the suite's front door. Naomi followed him instantly, grabbing her jacket on the way out.

Hastily, the two made their way back to the elevator and all the way down to the ground floor. L said nothing, and Naomi didn't pry. He needed to think, and she knew to let him.

With a _ding!_ , the doors slid open. L made a sharp turn and headed away from the lobby, towards the dining area. His hands were pocketed, and his back was curved sluggishly like always, but his strides were long and fast. Naomi had to almost run to keep up with him.

L tromped past the tables and the long buffet and was about to go through the silver door with the round window that lead into the kitchen when Naomi grabbed his arm. He looked at her quizzically.

Wordlessly, Naomi pulled a black 9mm Glock from the leather jacket she now wore and switched off the safety. She wasn't about to let L burst into a potential live crime scene unarmed.

L nodded and let her go around him.

Holding the gun with both hands and pointing it upwards over her shoulder, Naomi pressed her weight into the door. It swung open, and immediately, she stepped into the kitchen, holding the firearm out before her.

The bustling kitchen all at once broke into a frenzy of voices and cries of "Whoa, hey, what the-!" A metal tray clattered to the tile floor. The white-clad workers all dropped what they were doing and put their hands up, the entirety of the room instantly immobilized amid frantic voices.

With one hand, Naomi retrieved her falsified badge and held it up. "It's okay! We're federal agents," she said firmly. The door behind her swung shut and L stepped up beside her, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Naomi looked sideways at him, desperately hoping he had a plan. To say that they certainly didn't look like any kind of agents was an understatement.

The tension in the large room was heavy, but L took his time, slowly scanning the room with narrowed eyes. At last, he spoke.

"What happened to shut the kitchen down?" he demanded.

The kitchen staff all looked at one another confusedly.

"Uh..." one of them began slowly. "We're not shut down..."

L stared at the man in the white chef's coat and the tomato-stained apron. "The kitchen has not been shut down at all today?" he asked directly.

"No..." The chef looked around at the others for support. "We... we've been fully operational all day."

L stared a moment longer. Then he turned on his heel and shoved open the door with an open, outstretched palm. Naomi lowered her gun, clicking the safety back on, and tucked it again into her leather jacket. "Thank you for your time," she said with a nod. Then she turned and left the kitchen.

 _"What_ _was_ _that??"_ her mind whirled.

L was a ways ahead already, and Naomi nearly sprinted to catch up to him. She slowed her steps as she reached his side, though not much. He was walking very fast, his gaze fixed straight ahead. They reached the lobby, and L walked up to the counter. The smartly-dressed African American young woman behind it was on the phone.

L lifted an index finger and plunked it down to ding the little silver service bell.

The receptionist smiled courteously and gestured to give her one moment.

L's eyes snapped with impatience. He dinged the bell again. And then again.

Naomi gently reached out and lowered his arm, smiling nicely at the poor girl on the phone. She slid her hand into L's and interlocked her fingers with his.

Annoyed, L lifted his other hand to his mouth and bit down on the end of his thumb. He made a low growl in his throat, but his fingers closed around Naomi's. His hand was trembling.

They stood and waited only a moment longer before the receptionist ended her phone call and turned toward them.

"What can I do for you?" she asked politely.

"Have any rooms in the hotel recorded power outages in the last hour?" L asked.

The young woman furrowed her eyebrows and tipped her head. "Umm, let me check... Give me a moment, and I can call maintenance."

L chewed on the end of his thumb and watched the girl intently as she called to make the inquiry.

After another moment of waiting, the receptionist hung up the phone again.

"There was a thirteen second outage in the presidential suite about ten minutes ago," she informed them.

"And that's it?" L asked, his eyes narrowing with ferocity. "No other rooms in the hotel were affected?"

"No, sir. Our presidential suite is on a separate server, and-"

Before the girl could finish, L turned abruptly and walked briskly toward the elevator with Naomi in tow. Still holding his hand, Naomi was jerked away, but she managed a smile and a "Thank you!" to the receptionist as she was whirled around to follow L.

When they got in the elevator, L let go of her hand and pulled his phone out of his pocket. He pressed a few buttons and held it up to his ear. Almost immediately, he pulled the phone away and looked at it with a bewildered expression.

The doors dinged and opened again, and L and Naomi returned to their presidential suite.

Naomi shut the door behind them and turned to L.

"What is it?" she asked worriedly. "L, tell me what you're thinking."  Her heart was starting to pound.

L had taken a few steps into the large room and then stopped. He stood now with his curved back to her and one hand pocketed. The other hand was rubbing the back of his neck.

"Watari..." he mumbled.

Naomi moved to stand beside him, reaching out gently to take his arm.

"L, what is it? What about Watari?"

He just stared at the carpet with his hand still resting on the back of his neck. His long fingers moved listlessly back and forth.

And then L looked at her. There was a quiet panic kindling in his wide, grey eyes that Naomi had never seen before.  It made her stomach knot.

"What is the date today?" L asked slowly.

"Um... June 6th, but--"

"6/6."

"What?"

L's head turned to look at Naomi.  His voice was tight and clipped.  "Naomi.  What letter does a six resemble?"

Naomi instantly felt an icy chill travel the length of her spine.  The single letter escaped her lips in a whisper.

"...b."

L nodded.  "And how many seconds was the power outage in our room?"

Naomi's breath caught in her throat.

"...thirteen."

The number that resembled a capital B. 

Naomi brought the fingertips of one hand to rest against her mouth.

"Did... Watari not answer his phone?"

L didn't answer.  Instead, he extracted his phone from his pocket and handed it to Naomi.

"Call him," he instructed.

Naomi hesitated, watching him.  Her heart was pounding as she dialed and held the phone to her ear.

It didn't ring.  Instead, she heard a long beep followed by three short beeps.  There was a pause, then the beeps sounded again in the exact same way. 

_Beeeeeeeep beep beep beep._

_Beeeeeeeep beep beep beep._

Over and over again it repeated.

Finally, L reached for his phone, and Naomi shut it slowly and placed it onto his upturned palm.  Her eyes were on his troubled countenance.

"Morse code?" she asked in almost a whisper.

L just nodded.

Naomi swallowed the lump in her throat.  She didn't have to ask what letter the beeps represented.  L's face said it all.

And the words he spoke then only confirmed what Naomi already knew.

"Beyond is alive... and he's taken Watari."


	6. Puppet

"Beyond is alive," L repeated in a mumble, his words laced with disbelief.

Naomi's fingertips rested against her parted lips.  She lowered her gaze, and her eyes moved back and forth as she struggled desperately to make sense of all this.

L moved quickly over to the desk, and Naomi snapped out of her whirling thoughts to follow him.

"What can I do?" she asked, her voice mixed with equal amounts of determination and panic.

"Watari's phone has a tracker chip," L muttered with purpose, his back bent as his long fingers typed frantically on the keyboard.  He hadn't even bothered to sit down.

Naomi placed one hand on his back and the other on the desktop as she stared anxiously at the screen.  A GPS locator map came up, and a little red dot, pulsing like a bullseye, began to zero in on a specific location.

With one palm resting on the desk, L lifted a thumb to his teeth, his wide, grey eyes locked on the monitor.

The pulsating dot came to rest on a set of coordinates that were not very far from the hotel.  L and Naomi looked at each other, and Naomi voiced what they were both thinking.

"Beyond wants you to follow the phone chip," she sighed.  "There's no way he is actually there. It's too obvious!" She gestured broadly toward the monitor.

L nodded as he swallowed, his averted eyes flickering with worry.  "I agree," he said, his voice low and steady.  "This is another one of his twisted scavenger hunts."  L turned and shoved a hand into his jeans pocket.  As he took a few steps away from the desk, his right hand slid up his forehead, his locks of pitch-black hair spilling between his fingers.  He stopped in the middle of the room and stood like this, staring at the carpet as if in shock.

Naomi watched him, her heart aching with fear and worry.  She knew how much the fatherly old man meant to L, and she could only imagine what this was doing to him.  But she also knew L was someone who needed space when he was this wrought with anxiety.  So she simply stood supportively nearby, holding her elbows and awaiting instructions.

L's fingers tightened in his hair as he squeezed his eyes shut.  "How did he escape..."  His voice was somewhere between a mumble and a groan.  "...how is he alive?  How...?"

Naomi sighed.  Perhaps she was the one who needed to get things moving after all.  "You work on that," she said decidedly, realizing he needed something concrete to occupy his mind.  "I'm going to go find whatever clue he left us at that location."  Feeling that this was a good plan, she began moving briskly toward the door.

L's hand shot out and grabbed her arm.  "No you're not!" he said firmly.

Naomi looked down at his hand on her arm and then back up at him.  "Why not?" she asked incredulously.  "Watari needs us-"

"Watari is most likely dead," L stated coldly.  "Remember who we are dealing with here, Naomi.  A killer who carves Roman numerals into his victim's chest... who gouges out their eyes and severs their limbs.  Do you really think I'm going to let you just go off after him?  It's out of the question."

Naomi stared at him with wide eyes and parted lips. Her heart was pounding.  "He... he might not be dead, L," she offered in nearly a whisper, wanting so much to give him hope.

But even as she said the words, her heart sank and her stomach knotted.

"You're not going!" L snapped, his grip tightening protectively on her upper arm.

But Naomi lifted her chin stubbornly.  "We have no evidence that Watari is dead," she argued.  "And until we know for certain, we should proceed as though he is alive."  She pulled her arm away and started to walk around him.  "I am going."

"Misora!"  L quickly moved to block her path to the door.  "Do. Not. Leave," he practically growled.  "I need you here."

Naomi was beginning to feel irritated.  "No you don't!" she emphatically disagreed with a shake of her head and an exasperated lift of her hand.  "Whatever it is that is going to move us toward Watari is out there!"  She pointed forcefully toward the door.

"No!"  L stepped closer to her then, clamping both of his hands on her upper arms, making her lift her shoulders a bit.  Her eyes flitted between his, unable to look away from the intensity of his fierce expression.  He looked at her through the strands of hair that cascaded over the evident fear in his shaded eyes, and his gaze suddenly softened.  When he spoke again, his words were pleading.  "I need you here," he repeated, this time with a helpless desolation in his voice.  He shook his head, maintaining eye contact.  "Don't go."

Naomi was speechless.  She had never seen him so irrational.

But as she returned his gaze, she began to understand.  Until she had come into L's life, Watari had been the only family he had ever known, the only source of love for a nameless and brilliant orphan so closed off from the rest of humaity.  Looking at the World's Greatest Detective now, Naomi felt the knot in her stomach tighten painfully.  He looked so scared... so lost.

But now was not the time for emotions to overrule logic.  For once, it was Naomi who had to convince L of this reality.

She brought her arms up to wrap around him as she stepped in to lay her head on his shoulder.  L's long arms responded immediately, encircling her tightly, and his forehead came to rest at the base of her neck.

Naomi didn't say anything right away.  She held him close, her own emotions drawing strength from inside his arms.

But at last, she spoke softly, turning her whispered words into his hair.

"You know I have to go."

After a long pause, he nodded, his forehead still pressed against her neck.

Gently, Naomi pushed his shoulders back so that she could look at him.  He searched her face desperately.  And then, like a switch had been flipped inside him, his countenance became void of all worry and fear, and it was all at once as steadfast as it had ever been.

"Stay on comms," he instructed.

Naomi nodded up at him.  His hands rested on her waist as hers moved from his shoulders to his face.  She said nothing, for what was there to say?  No guarantee could be given, no promise could be made.

Tucking her bottom lip inward, Naomi turned away and headed toward her room to change from her gym clothes into jeans and a sweater.  She stepped out only a moment later, and L swiveled to look at her from his place at the desk.  Naomi gave him a subtle, albeit firm nod before turning to exit the suite.

The blinking dot on the map led Naomi to a strange and unfamiliar part of Los Angeles.  Train tracks ran beneath an overhead highway, and the buildings that surrounded Naomi as she switched off and dismounted her bike were scattered and plain. 

Naomi's boots scraped against bits of gravel on asphalt as she cautiously walked forward, looking around and squinting against the brightness of the late afternoon sun.  Not a single person was in sight, save for those included in the highway traffic that was flashing by on the overpass.  Large parking lots spanned out amid what appeared to be run-down warehouses and large shipping and storage containers.

Naomi tucked a breezy strand of hair behind her ear as she stopped walking and looked down at her phone screen.  Her own GPS locator was directly atop Watari's.

"Naomi?"  L's voice came over the comm in her ear.

"I'm here," she answered, returning the phone to her pocket as her eyes again surveyed her surroundings beneath a furrowed brow.

"I'm looking at the area via satellite imagery," L informed her.  "It doesn't look like there's much to go on."

"What should I do then?" Misora asked, once again swiping wisps of hair out of her face with her leather gloved hand.  The day was pleasantly warm and sunny, but the wind was enough to be a nuisance to anyone with long hair.

"Do what you do best," L answered simply.  "Search for clues.  Look for anything out of the ordinary.  Remember that we are dealing with a criminal who enjoys leaving breadcrumbs."

"Right." Naomi began to walk forward again with her arms at her sides.  Her keen, brown eyes traveled over the structures before her.  A couple of them were larger with broken windows and faded brick.  Others were small and boxy and windowless.  All in all, it looked like some sort of long-abandoned industrial compound.  Naomi turned and walked backwards as she moved among the symmetrical set-up of storage units, the spaces between them like aisles in a grocery store.

"Am I going to have to search through all of these?" she wondered with a sinking feeling.

But it was then that she noticed each container had a letter painted on it in its top corner.

"The units are lettered," she informed L, already searching for the one stamped with a 'B.'  She found it rather quickly, and naturally, it was locked.  Pulling out her gun, she looked around as she held it out before her with both hands.  Then she took aim and fired, and the padlock burst into fragments, releasing the mechanism.  Naomi tucked the Glock back into her jeans and opened the heavy metal door with a hollow, grinding crrreeeaaaak...

Then, using her phone's flashlight app, she peered into the looming steel cave.

"...it's empty," she said with a sigh.  She stepped inside, guiding the light up and down the walls and all along the ceiling and floor.  Her footsteps echoed in the metallic chamber.

"He may have left a clue somewhere on the surface of the interior," L's voice suggested.

Naomi shook her head, moving the light  slowly over the elongated intersection of the wall and ceiling.  "No... no, there's nothing.  We may need a blacklight or a fingerprint sweep..."

"Then where's the cell phone?" L pointed out in the form of a question.  "Or at least the tracking chip..."

"...I'm not seeing anything," Naomi sighed. "It's just a big empty box."

"Is there an L?"

"What?"

"A unit with the letter L."

"I dunno..."  Naomi turned and exited the storage container.  After a moment, she spotted what she was looking for.  "...got it," she said, quickening her steps toward the large, industrial container marked with the letter L.  She reached for her gun again, but then stopped.

This unit was already unlocked.

Naomi furrowed her brow.  Holding the firearm in her right hand, she cautiously reached out with her left.  Curling her fingers around the latch handle, she pulled the door open, and this one, too, drew out a long and metallic groan as it slowly revealed the unsettling contents of the unit.

Hanging from the low, steel ceiling were dozens and dozens of life-sized puppet dolls, their feet nearly touching the floor, but not quite.  Their painted faces smiled hideously like demented circus clowns, and all of them wore gaudy clothing with mismatched colors and dissonant patterns.

Naomi swallowed.  Slowly describing to L what she was seeing, she stepped inside the meat locker of wooden marionettes.  They clattered and swung, knocking against one another amid hollow echos as Naomi made her way through the dark and disturbing forest of hanging puppets, the flashlight lighting up their grinning faces like they were telling grisly ghost stories around a bonfire.

"It's got the creepy factor..." Naomi observed in a low voice, still considering the possibility that the nightmare-inducing collection simply belonged to some innocent circus freak.  But then, the beam of her flashlight fell on a hanging puppet that looked a little different from the rest.  It was bulkier that the others, and the way it slowly swayed back and forth was a bit slower, a bit... heavier.

Naomi squinted, jutting her face out a bit and holding the light up a little higher as she cautiously approached the dangling figure.  Slowly, she held out her hand, gripping the handgun sideways with her first finger and thumb as she extended the other three fingers to touch the peculiar puppet.  The boldly printed fabric was thin and polyester, and beneath it was something that definitely wasn't wood.  It was sturdy, but soft.  It felt organic...

Naomi's eyes widened.

"Oh!"

...it was human.

Naomi jerked her hand away and quickly shone the light up to the corpse's face.  She gasped.  "...oh my god!"

"What is it?" L asked, his voice raising a little.

"...it's... it- one of the puppets is a dead body!"

L was quiet for several seconds before asking the unthinkable.  "...is it Watari?"

"No," Naomi replied confidently.  "Whoever this is has been dead for at least a day.  But the... face is painted like the other puppets, and..."  Her voice trailed off as she tipped her head.  She couldn't take her eyes off the horribly grotesque display before her.

"...and what??" L prompted.

Naomi swallowed again.  "...the mouth is sewn shut."

The victim's lips had been haphazardly stitched together with thick, black thread, the sutures forming jagged X's as they wove in and out of fleshy, red punctures.  The corpse's sealed mouth formed an unnatural grin, its neck hanging at a hideously odd angle.

"...B never does anything without a purpose..." L muttered.  Naomi could tell his thumb was pressed against his lip.

"Keep your mouth shut," Naomi murmured.

"...excuse me?"

"No... not you."  Naomi reached around herself and tucked the gun back into her jeans.  "That's the message.  'Keep your mouth shut.'  He sewed the lips together to warn you not to talk.  He has Watari, so he has leverage, and he doesn't want you telling anyone what he's doing... or that he's alive, I would imagine."

"...oh.  That makes sense," L sighed.  "So... he's telling me I'm his puppet."

Naomi's heart sank.  She hadn't thought of that.  She sighed in a shaky exhale as she brought her hand to her forehead in aching distress.  It was true.  As long as Beyond had his hostage, he would be calling the shots.

"Did you find the cell phone?" L asked stiffly.

"Um..."  Holding the phone with the flashlight in one hand, Naomi patted down the body like she was frisking a suspect.  She located a hard object inside the right pocket of the billowy polyester jumpsuit, and sure enough, it was Watari's cell phone.  "...I got it."  She checked the left pocket then, and extracted a small, red ticket. The words "Admit One" were printed on the front in a circus-style font, and two vertical number sequences lined either side of the voucher.

"Give me the numbers," L said, after Naomi had described her discovery.

"On the left... 061307."

"That's a date," L said flatly.  "One week from today."

"You're right."  Naomi nodded.

"And the right side?"

Naomi read off the next sequence of numbers, this one being eight digits long.

"Hm..." L grumbled.  "That one can't be a date."

"It's a ticket," Naomi stated the obvious.  But then she added, "To attend an event, you'd need a date... and a location."

She could hear L's fingers clacking away on the keyboard.  A moment later, he spoke.  "You're right, Naomi.  It's a set of coordinates."  The hesitant way in which he spoke indicated that the location held some kind of meaning to him.

"Where?" Naomi pressed him.  "What's the location?" 

L swallowed as he lowered his brow toward the map displayed on the monitor before him.  "It's the one place B and I have in common," he said tightly.  "...Wammy's House."


End file.
